


Never Enough

by AirgiodSLV



Series: Always, and again [2]
Category: Bandom
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-05-19
Updated: 2009-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-19 02:25:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirgiodSLV/pseuds/AirgiodSLV
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>She knew Brendon had seen her staring, because Spencer hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off her for the rest of the shoot. She’s pretty sure </i>everyone<i> had seen her staring.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Double genderswap. In the same universe as [Always, and again](http://airgiodslv.livejournal.com/464330.html). Thanks to [](http://maleyka.livejournal.com/profile)[**maleyka**](http://maleyka.livejournal.com/) for the beta.

Spencer doesn’t realize how quiet it’s gotten on the bus until she hears Brendon clear her throat. It’s a soft sound, unusually unobtrusive, and that more than anything is what draws Spencer up out of her magazine to look in the direction of the noise.

Brendon is hovering in the doorway to the back lounge, framed like an old-fashioned portrait. She’s wearing a skirt that looks like it might be tulle, the fabric floating out from her waist into a short, layered petticoat. Spencer’s eyes get stuck there for a second before she looks further up and takes in the rest of it; the sharp, clean lines of boning following the slender silhouette of Brendon’s torso, and the sleeveless white rim of the corset accentuating her bare shoulders. Spencer’s throat is dry, and she has to work for a moment before she can swallow.

Brendon’s fingers pluck at the tulle, twisting and smoothing it. “Do you remember?” she asks, her voice thin and nervous, but brimming with the excitement of a surprise. “The photo shoot?”

Spencer remembers. It was only a month ago, and she’d been bored as usual and hanging out on the couch waiting to get started, kicking Ryan for giving her shit about the dress shoes they’d put her in. Brendon had finally been released from the make-up room and appeared wearing a black satin corset with lace around the edges, the material stark against her skin and making her look both impossibly fragile and stronger that Spencer had ever seen her before.

She knew Brendon had seen her staring, because Spencer hadn’t been able to keep her eyes off her for the rest of the shoot. She’s pretty sure _everyone_ had seen her staring.

Spencer is still speechless, so Brendon does a little twirl in place, like an awkward ballerina, her skirt fluffing up as she spins. “I thought…you looked like you liked, it so.” She shrugs, and the corset pulls tight against her skin, making Spencer’s stomach flip. “I called the wardrobe company and asked if they would sell it to me. They didn’t have the black one anymore, but they had white, so I thought maybe…”

She shrugs again, biting her lip, anxious but still giddy. Spencer swallows again and forces herself to remember words. Brendon must see something in her face even without them, because she relaxes fractionally, straightening, and flutters a little, her limbs turning fluid and poised the way they do when she’s putting on a performance. She is, Spencer thinks, putting on a show. For Spencer.

Spencer clears her throat once she thinks she can trust her voice. “Where are Ryan and Jon?” she asks, because that’s the most important thing right now, apart from Brendon standing there in a costume that’s already making Spencer ache to touch her.

Brendon bites her lip again and smiles, suddenly bashful. “I bribed them,” she answers, and there’s a glint of pleasure in her eyes as she says it, smug pride. “They’re off with Zack.”

The tension in Spencer’s stomach curls tighter. “Come here,” she says, and her voice is a little rough, but Brendon responds to that tone the way she always does, eyelids lowering halfway and pulling herself up to corrected posture, the sort she uses when she plays the piano and what Spencer’s mother always wished she would have, growing up.

Brendon walks over lightly, on the balls of her feet, like a dancer. Spencer drops her magazine onto the floor and rests her arms to the sides so that Brendon can climb into her lap and straddle her, yards of tulle rustling around them as she settles her weight onto Spencer’s thighs.

Spencer runs her fingertips up the rigid lines of boning, feeling the silky-slick material and the hard, constricting frame holding Brendon in. Brendon holds very still, her eyes on Spencer, and her heartbeat is pounding like a trapped bird’s when Spencer rests two fingers against her bare sternum, right above her breasts. She can feel Brendon breathing, rapid and shallow, the corset not yielding enough to let her take deep breaths.

It’s tight, fitted perfectly to Brendon’s torso with a long row of tiny hooks and eyes down the back that Spencer feels when she runs her hand over Brendon’s painfully straight spine. It’s not enough to give her actual cleavage, as small as her breasts are, but it does grant her the suggestion of it, soft curves lifted above the horizontal line of the corset pinning them in place. Spencer runs her fingertip over the raised half-circle of one of Brendon’s breasts, and feels Brendon shiver a little at the touch.

“It would look better on you,” Brendon says softly, her gaze on the full curves of Spencer’s breasts, held securely and shaped by her full-coverage bra.

Spencer would have cleavage, at least, but that isn’t the point. “No,” she disagrees, and traces the exposed curve of Brendon’s other breast, watching the gooseflesh rise on her skin. Brendon is holding so still, patient, but Spencer can feel the tremble in her spine when she flattens her hand out against the rigid line of Brendon’s back. The corset makes her look even tinier than she is, bird-boned and delicate, and Spencer can’t seem to stop touching her where the boning meets her skin, confining her.

“Do you like it?” Brendon asks, as if she doesn’t already know, as if she can’t see Spencer drinking her in with her eyes and greedy, possessive touches. She still wants to hear it, though, Spencer knows, wants the reassurance that her surprise is a good one. She wants Spencer to like her like this, and Spencer…Spencer does.

“I love it,” she promises, and Brendon’s smile breaks out in full, startling for the juxtaposition against her perfect posture and formal, attentive stillness. Spencer’s fingers tighten involuntarily on Brendon’s slippery-satin waist, spreading until she can feel Brendon’s rib cage beneath her hands and the constant shallow rise and fall of her breathing.

Spencer drops her hands to Brendon’s thighs, nestling into the crinkled layers of tulle, and Brendon’s breath comes a little sharper, knowing. Spencer smoothes her thumbs over Brendon’s skin beneath the scratchy, starched fabric, and Brendon makes a little noise of hopeful anticipation.

“All alone?” Spencer reiterates, her mouth quirking up into a smile, and Brendon nods, jerky and earnest. Spencer smiles wider and drags the fabric of the skirt higher, baring more of Brendon’s pale legs. She rubs her thumbs over the softer skin on the inside of Brendon’s thighs, sliding beneath the whispering fabric, and finds the thin straps of the thong Brendon’s wearing beneath her skirt. Brendon is taut now, balanced upright and ready, and she only shudders a little when Spencer slides her thumb sideways to rub over the silky material covering Brendon’s clit.

Brendon swells beneath her thumb, hot through the fabric, and her lips part, mouth dropping open as she breathes. She makes a soft, helpless noise when Spencer presses harder, her thumb sliding lower along the fabric to feel the wet, slippery material between Brendon’s legs.

She rubs in slow circles, teasing, watching Brendon’s face as she struggles to keep her eyes open. Brendon is still behaving, not moving a muscle as Spencer gently touches her, but Spencer can feel the tension in her thighs, the desperate desire to buck up into Spencer’s hand and rub herself against Spencer’s thumb.

“Please,” Brendon begs finally, breaking. “Spencer.”

“What do you want?” Spencer asks, but she already knows what _she_ wants, and Brendon seems to know it, eyes fixed on Spencer’s.

“What you want,” she says. “You.”

It’s not an answer Spencer would normally let her get away with, but Brendon did this for her, dressed up and chased everyone else away and now she’s holding still and letting Spencer touch her, have her, and Spencer’s not going to turn down that gift.

“How much time do we have?” she asks, rubbing her left thumb across the soft crease of Brendon’s thigh.

Brendon’s eyes are dark when she answers, her voice low. “Not enough.”

Spencer hears the real answer under the words, knows what she means. _Never enough._

“Up,” she says, and Brendon scrambles back, stumbling a little when her legs turn unsteady. Spencer holds onto her with one hand until she catches herself, and then goes to rifle through the drawstring bag she keeps hidden very carefully at the foot of her mattress, buried beneath the lumps and folds of a spare blanket.

Brendon’s followed her, drifting along in her wake like a boat tugged by the tide, hovering just inside the hallway where the bunks are. Spencer undoes her jeans and steps out of them, folding them up and draping them over her bunk, and after a moment of consideration strips out of her shirt as well. She leaves her bra on, and her panties, soft white cotton with faded blue stripes. It makes the straps of the harness slightly harder to negotiate, bunching the fabric over her hips and into the crack of her ass, but there’s a vibrator hidden in the base of the dildo, and she finds the stimulation on her naked clit to be a little too much when she’s fucking Brendon at the same time.

Brendon slips forward to help her adjust the strap around her waist, her slender fingers nimble on the buckle. Spencer holds still and lets her fuss, knowing that Brendon always relaxes more when she’s a part of this, when she can help get Spencer ready. Finally the harness sits comfortably on her hips, the dildo jutting out from the juncture of her thighs and bobbing when she takes a step. Brendon takes a step back, her eyes dark, and darts back into the lounge to the couch they’d been sitting on before.

She hesitates, chewing on her lip and looking to Spencer for guidance, but Spencer shakes her head and smiles, sitting down again and spreading her legs a little for balance, making herself comfortable before she holds out a hand for Brendon to join her. Brendon straddles her again, settling gracefully onto her lap, having to spread her legs wider to accommodate Spencer’s new position. The dildo bumps up against her, resting low on her stomach beneath the shushing murmur of the tulle.

Spencer’s fingers find the straps of Brendon’s thong and curl around them, tugging down. Brendon has to move again, shifting to one side as she squirms out of her underwear, and then she settles again after Spencer tosses them to the side, bare now beneath her skirt. Spencer scoots back as far as she possibly can and sits up straight, pushing down on Brendon’s shoulder. “Get me wet,” she says, holding the base of the dildo with her other hand to keep it steady.

Brendon tries to bend to reach her, but the corset prevents her, keeping her spine straight and restricted. She takes a few quick breaths and adjusts, sliding to the floor onto her knees, looking up at Spencer for approval before leaning forward and taking the head of the dildo into her mouth.

Spencer always wonders whether she’s meant to find the sight of Brendon sucking cock so hot. It would be different if it were a guy, she thinks, but this is an extension of her, right now, hot pink silicone and rubber. It’s still Brendon going down on her, cheeks hollowed and eyes closed, her head bobbing rhythmically between Spencer’s legs. It doesn’t feel like much, but it still makes Spencer hot, her panties growing wetter with every dip of Brendon’s head. Brendon goes down as far as she can, swallowing with effort, and the hard bump of the vibrator nudges against Spencer’s clit. Brendon looks up, eyes wide and guileless and drugged with lust, and Spencer inhales sharply, thrusting up a little until Brendon gags and adjusts the placement of the dildo in her mouth.

Spencer reaches down to tangle her fingers in Brendon’s short-cropped hair, knotting a handful in her fist, and starts thrusting slowly. Brendon moans in response, going limp in her grip, her mouth stretched obscenely wide around the pink silicone as Spencer pushes it back and forth between her lips. Spencer holds her by her hair and pushes the dildo in deep, and Brendon’s eyelashes flutter as she swallows and struggles to take it in. It’s slow going, an inch at a time, but finally Brendon’s lips brush the straps of the harness, her throat relaxed and open, and Spencer purrs a low, rumbling growl of appreciation which makes Brendon shudder.

Spencer draws her back, letting the dildo slip free of her mouth, and watches Brendon’s chest heave and pulse against the constraints of the corset as she catches her breath. “I think it’s wet enough now,” she says, fingers twitching to touch Brendon’s swollen red lips. “Come up here.”

Brendon climbs into her lap gracefully, her limbs floating, her whole body relaxed and waiting. Spencer finds her way under her skirt again, to the short tangle of curls and the wet, heated folds between her thighs. She’s already parted and open, balanced over Spencer’s legs, but Spencer digs her thumbs in and spreads her wider, relishing when Brendon tilts her hips desperately up into Spencer’s hands.

“Can you take it?” Spencer asks, moving her own hips so the dildo rubs against Brendon’s pubic bone. “Do you want me to stretch you first?”

Brendon shakes her head, choppy, and tilts her hips up further, supplication. She’s already wet down the insides of her thighs, slippery over Spencer’s thumbs where she’s holding Brendon open. Spencer believes her when she says she can take it just like this, without preparation, so she adjusts her right hand, keeping Brendon spread wide with her thumb and forefinger, while she grips the base of the dildo with her left hand and lines up.

Brendon starts making noise from the first moment of penetration, soft, choked sounds that make it hard for Spencer not to just thrust deep, all the way inside her. She doesn’t move, though, holds still and keeps the dildo steady while Brendon works herself down over the shaft in small, rocking movements.

It feels like an eternity before Brendon finally stills, barely an inch of the base left outside her body, and takes a shuddering breath. Spencer can feel her stretched around it, and rubs the thin skin beneath her finger and thumb up against the dildo gently.

“Okay?” she asks softly. “Need a minute?”

Brendon shakes her head again, but Spencer still doesn’t move until she sees Brendon exhale in a long, shuddering breath, and the first shy curve of her smile. Then she puts her hands on Brendon’s waist, where the corset meets the skirt, and holds her lightly as Brendon gives the first experimental roll of her hips.

It takes Brendon a minute or two to get into the rhythm, the rocking motion of riding a cock, and Spencer waits for her, patient while Brendon finds her stride. She runs her fingers over the hard boning of the corset, spreads them between to feel the heat of Brendon’s skin radiating out through the cloth, and presses down to feel the hitch of Brendon’s breath beneath her fingers.

Brendon rests her hands lightly on Spencer’s shoulders, having relaxed into a slow, rolling rhythm, her body’s slippery lubrication sliding down the shaft to soak Spencer’s panties, and the straps of the harness. Spencer got some sun this week, outside playing hackeysack in a tank top with Jon and Brendon, and Brendon’s fingertips are cool and welcome against her sunburned skin.

“Turn it on,” Brendon says, leaning forward as much as the corset will allow, trying to take the cock deeper inside her. “Come on.”

Spencer has to reluctantly pull her hands away from Brendon to do it, but she reaches down and finds the little switch, a hard square protrusion against her thumb. She pushes it to the other side and feels the buzz of the vibrator start against her clit, dulled through the material of her panties. It’s still enough to make her suck in a breath, and Brendon moans in sympathy, grinding down harder and straining forward. Spencer kisses her, wet and open-mouthed, her hands wandering again to Brendon’s back, feeling the ramrod tension of her spine.

Brendon has to push hard to reach her, against the constricting cage of the corset and the hard length of silicone inside her, but she manages, licking into Spencer’s mouth with sloppy enthusiasm. She isn’t content to let Spencer kiss her, instead sucking Spencer’s tongue into her mouth and licking behind her teeth, nibbling on her lip when Spencer has to break away to breathe.

Brendon’s movements have slowed, lessening as they kiss, and Spencer knows that Brendon will keep forgetting to ride her as long as they’re kissing like this, instead holding her deep inside. She thrusts up a little in reminder, and Brendon moans, her teeth sinking briefly into Spencer’s lip, her hips rolling to accommodate the new pressure and the extra half-inch Spencer has pushed inside her.

“Come on, fuck me,” Spencer murmurs, her fingers dancing up the corset boning and spreading out over Brendon’s breasts, bound tight and pushing into her hands with every breath. Brendon takes a deep breath before she starts to move again, this time raising up and sinking down on the shaft, her thighs taut and straining.

Brendon sinks down and Spencer thrusts up to meet her, the resistance briefly pushing the vibrator harder against her clit, and Brendon’s voice breaks on a moan at the same time Spencer’s does. She clenches her teeth, biting down on her tongue and the sounds rising in her throat, and concentrates on matching Brendon’s rhythm, squeezing her ass to push in deeper and forcing the pace a little, making Brendon speed up to meet her. Brendon’s head drops back and Spencer digs her fingertips into Brendon’s skin, grasping handfuls of her breasts, giving Brendon just the edge of her short nails.

“Fuck, Spencer,” Brendon says, begging, and the brief glancing buzz of the vibrator isn’t nearly enough now, so Spencer gives her what she wants and pushes her back, toppling them both down onto the couch lengthwise, Brendon’s legs locked tight around her waist to keep the dildo from slipping out of her.

She loves Brendon riding her, ramrod straight and working hard, fucking herself on Spencer’s cock, but she loves this too, Brendon helpless and desperate beneath her, clutching at Spencer’s shoulders and tilting her hips up to take her in deeper. Brendon’s breathing is rapid, still shallow and constricted, dragging in dizzy gasps as Spencer flexes her thighs and starts fucking her with the strap-on. Her nails dig into the sunburned skin of Spencer’s shoulders, and Spencer hisses at the sharp sting of sensation.

Brendon chants her name when she gets the angle right, and then stops forming words and just starts moaning, her lips parted on an ‘o’ around the sounds that come spilling out of her mouth. Spencer’s back prickles as she breaks out in a sweat, her thighs twinging with the promise of a burn. She’s pushing in deep, the vibrator pressing hard against her clit with every thrust, and Brendon’s head thrashes from side to side on the couch cushion as Spencer pounds her harder.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ ” Spencer gasps, her rhythm slipping with the slick give of Brendon’s body and her own aching muscles. Brendon cries out when Spencer rocks forward, a little scream that makes Spencer grit her teeth and hope no one is hanging around outside the bus. She almost doesn’t care, not when Brendon’s hair is damp with sweat and her eyes are screwed tightly closed and she can’t seem to stop making those _noises._ Spencer thrusts forward and kisses her, hard and messy, kisses her until Brendon is begging with sobs into her mouth and her own thighs are screaming and the dildo is making obscene squelching sounds every time it sinks into Brendon’s body.

“Fuck,” she says again, breathless and high, and grinds in hard so that the base of the dildo is all the way inside and she can feel the heat of Brendon’s skin pressed against hers and the vibrator is a concentrated knot of pleasure against her clit. She rocks against it, rubbing desperately, and Brendon’s gasps turn to white noise in her ears as she pulses and comes, and comes, and comes.

She’s breathing hard when it finally ends, when the vibrator is suddenly far too much stimulation and she needs to pull back, the dildo dragging with a long slick slide out of Brendon’s body. Brendon whimpers, and Spencer finds the presence of mind to flip the switch to turn the vibrator off before she leans forward again, pushing the dildo all the way inside Brendon again, to the hilt. She gets her hand between them and smears her fingertips through the lubrication that’s now everywhere, rubbing fast and hard and unrelenting over Brendon’s clit until she cries out, her entire body racked by spasms, twisting and writhing as she clenches down over and over again around the dildo still deep inside her.

Brendon’s cries finally turn into whimpers, her torso twisting to get away and thwarted by the stiff, unyielding corset, so Spencer stops rubbing her and just leaves her fingers there, resting on the throbbing pulse of Brendon’s clit. She waits for a few seconds, while Brendon tries to catch her breath and her muscles unwind, and then rubs gently again, just enough to send a few surprise aftershocks rippling through Brendon’s frame.

She takes her fingers away and licks the tips, because she likes to taste what she’s done to Brendon, the tangible evidence of what they’ve shared together. Brendon watches her with glazed, sleepy eyes, her whole body loose and pliant. Spencer could do whatever she wanted with her now, and that’s a thought that never fails to call up an answering throb from between her legs, even after her orgasm.

Brendon reaches for her, languid and graceful, like she’s moving through water. Spencer pulls out and tucks the strap-on to one side so that she can lean down and kiss Brendon, until they’re both smiling and dizzy with it and Brendon’s fingers are tucked secure and knowing into Spencer’s hair.

“Marry me,” Spencer says suddenly. She doesn’t really process it until it’s already out of her mouth, when Brendon’s eyes go wide and surprised. There’s a stab of panic, because she didn’t plan this, she who plans everything, and this is something she definitely should have planned. Even stronger than that, though, is the sense of urgency, and the gut-deep knowledge that she means it, planned or not.

“What?” Brendon says, finding her voice.

“Let’s get married. Not now, we don’t have to right away, but one day. I don’t have a ring, I didn’t think about it, but I’ll get one, any one you want, or you don’t have to wear one if you want.” She can’t stop talking, her brain is fizzing out static and her mouth won’t stop running and all she can think is _Brendon._ “Do you want a ring? Would you want one? Do you even want…?”

“Spencer,” Brendon interrupts her, laying a finger across her lips, and thank fuck, Spencer finally shuts up. Brendon is laughing, her eyes dancing, and she’s shaking her head but what she says is, “Yes.”

“Yes, you want a ring?” Spencer says, because apparently she can’t shut up after all.

Brendon leans up and kisses her, long and slow and achingly sweet, and then she whispers against Spencer’s mouth, “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Spencer feels relief so strong she nearly collapses with it, even though her brain is now spinning into overdrive, thinking that she has to call her mother and she needs to hire a planner and god, they’re _engaged._ Brendon is still laughing, still kissing her, and Spencer starts laughing too, wrapping her arms around Brendon so tightly that she doesn’t think she’ll ever be able to let go.

“We should get dressed,” Brendon whispers finally, still smiling a goofy, happy smile that Spencer can’t totally believe she’s the reason for. “They’ll be back soon.”

“I don’t want to tell them,” Spencer blurts out, and when Brendon looks confused, she clarifies hastily, “Yet. Not yet. I want it to be ours for a little while. Just you and I.” She feels like she’s floating, and Brendon is floating with her, still clinging tight. “They can know when they see the ring.”

“They’ll kill us,” Brendon says, but she doesn’t disagree, glowing with joy, and Spencer is going to have to find a ring fast because she doesn’t think Brendon is going to be able to keep this secret for long to save her life, no matter how hard she tries.

She should tell Ryan soon, anyway. She should tell him first, after her family, and then Jon. Maybe Brendon should tell them. Maybe Brendon should tell everyone, because Spencer feels like if she opens her mouth she won’t be able to stop babbling for a week.

“Let them,” she says, pressing her forehead to Brendon’s. They’re a mess of sweat and fabric and straps, and she couldn’t be happier. “It’s our secret.”

“Our secret,” Brendon whispers back, grinning, and then the bus door bangs open and Jon’s voice yells, “Everybody put their clothes back on!”

“Ten minutes,” Spencer yells back, struggling to sit up, her fingers fumbling clumsily with the harness. Brendon is no help at all, she just watches Spencer with bright eyes and giggles. Spencer pokes her tongue out at her, drops her voice and asks, “What did you bribe them with?”

“Pot,” Brendon answers, spreading her fingers wide. “A lot of it. And I’m going to make them special brownies.”

“Damn,” Spencer says, because it’s hard to top that. “I’ll do your laundry for a month if you give us ten more minutes!” she yells, crossing her fingers and hoping they forget about it after the first few weeks. They probably won’t, unfortunately. She holds her breath for a second waiting for a reply, and then adds wildly, “And double the brownies!”

There’s a considering pause, and then Ryan yells back, “Done!” and the door slams shut again. She can hear their voices outside, joking. They probably have eight minutes, max.

She kicks the harness off along with her drenched panties and makes a face at Brendon, who’s still grinning at her. “What?”

Brendon shrugs, breathless and giggling. “I’m a little dizzy,” she admits. “I think it’s making me giddy.”

“Come here,” Spencer says, smoothing her hand over Brendon’s damp hair down to her spine, and finds the hooks and eyes with her fingers, prying them loose until the pressure of the corset eases and it slides down over Brendon’s breasts.

Brendon sways, taking what’s probably her first real breath in half an hour or more, and Spencer holds her up as she blinks and leans against Spencer’s chest. Spencer strokes her hair, letting her just rest there for a minute, and then murmurs, “We have to get dressed.”

Brendon grins up at her, bright and happy. “Yes,” she says, stretching up to steal another kiss and whispering the word against Spencer’s lips. “Yes.”


End file.
